


Personal Adjustment Leader

by srm14250



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Male Character, Character Development, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Constructive Criticism Welcome, Extended Metaphors, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, LGBTQ Themes, Legend of Zelda References, Trans Male Character, Transphobia, Work In Progress, shout out to zoe for helping me edit, yeah these tags kinda spoil it pretend you didn't read them most of these are late game stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-26 19:57:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20395300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/srm14250/pseuds/srm14250
Summary: Leo Carter seems to hate everything. He hates his new town, he hates living with his dad, and he hates his school's buddy system, forcing him to spend time with his PAL, or personal adjustment leader. Said PAL is a bubbly (and in Leo's opinion annoying) boy named Charlie, who coincidently ends up being his lab partner, as well. Turns out, Leo's idea of getting through school talking to people as little as possible might not go according to plan. But maybe, through time, he'll learn to love instead of hate? Or maybe he'll go back to what's comfortable: shutting everyone and everything out.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi please note this is a work in progress and some chapters are edited more than others. Also yes Leo is a dramatic edgy bastard, but don't worry he'll eventually get more likable.
> 
> Yeah so if you have any suggestions please let me know, although be aware the story itself is already planned out, so it probably wouldn't be helpful if you said something like "I think they should do this next!" but anything else even if you think it's rude would be greatly appreciated.

The leaves were all dead and brown by the time I got there. I missed all the beautiful reds and oranges that hung in the air, contrasting with the bright blue behind them. No, by the time I got there, all that remained in the sky were a handful of stubborn ugly leaves, hanging on to the branches as a reminder of what was. Some leaves were collected in piles on the side of the road, sitting and decomposing into the dry air. Others were just on the dying grass, left just as they were when they fell. The sky was overcast and gray, with the constant empty threat of rain. Everywhere I looked, all around me, everything was brown and gray.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” asked my dad after a long silence in the car.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“I know you didn’t come here under the best of circumstances, but I think you’ll grow to like it. You know, when I was your age...”

He carried on, trying to make some sort of small talk, but I couldn’t be bothered to pay attention. I recognized the road lined with ugly dying trees from when Dad “showed me around town” a few days prior, and I knew that Hamilton High was only a few blocks away.  _ Okay,  _ I thought.  _ First day of high school, part 2. _

“Leo?” Dad called, snapping me back to reality.

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

He just sighed at me. “Just… good luck, okay?”

We pulled into the drop off section of the parking lot. I opened the car door, pulling my backpack over my shoulder as I stepped down onto the pavement. It was my first time on school campus, and I already hated it.

The school looked like a prison. Cliche, I know, but in its most literal sense, the school looked like a prison. Every part of it was just different sized brick boxes, all haphazardly connected together with a couple of narrow hallways. In one corner was a baseball field, and in another was a football field, both looking brown and forgotten like everything else. The football field had massive dirt patches covering it, like the brown splotches that form on a banana that was left out too long. Between them was a poorly maintained parking lot, full of potholes and faded paint that I assume was once parking lines. Various parts of the school were fenced off with an ugly wire, bent and misshapen. It wasn’t like I was a huge fan of my old school, but at least we had some amount of green left in the grass.

I gave a slight wave to my dad as he drove off in his beat up pickup, and started to make my way inside the belly of the beast. The front door was being held open by a teacher, a middle aged woman who would look much younger if she had a bottle of hair dye. She was wearing a long black jacket, a gray scarf that matched her hair, and an obnoxiously bright red hat. I think  she was there for security, or some poor attempt at it, but I struggled to see how she could spot an intruder, let alone stop one. She was saying good morning to each student as they walked by her, referring to some by name, but always making a point to greet each one regardless if she seemed to know them or not.

Sure enough, she greeted me warmly as I walked through the door. I know I could have asked her for directions, but if I could help it I was going to talk to as few people as possible. Lucky for me, the main office was not hard to find. 

It was dull and sad, similar to outside but with oppressively bright fluorescent lights instead of the indication of a far away sun behind the mist. There was a woman sitting at a desk in front of me, wearing too much makeup and a face that had never seen joy. She was reading some sort of novel, but the book was flat on her desk and I couldn’t see the cover.

“What is it?” she asked without looking up.

“Um, I’m a new student. I need my schedule.”

“Name?”

“Leo Carter.”

She typed something into the ancient computer on her desk, clicked her mouse a few times, and then rolled in her chair to the printer behind her. “A little late to start a new school.” 

I didn’t respond. The printer seemed to scream as it covered a piece of paper with lines and swirls of ink, creating symbols that would dictate 6 hours of my life, 5 days a week. She grabbed the paper from the printer and dropped it on her table. I picked it up, and began to make my way back to the door.

“Wait,” she called. 

I stopped. 

“You need a PAL.”

“A pal?”

“P-A-L,” she spelled. “Personal Adjustment Leader. You’ve been assigned with…” she typed some more into her ancient computer, “Charlie Reed.”

She leaned into the microphone attached to her desk, held down the button, and said “Charlie Reed to the main office please,” in the most monotone voice imaginable. She looked at me, for the first time in this entire interaction, and said, “Wait here.”

I sat down in one of the two ancient leather chairs in the corner of the room, and glanced at my schedule. The only class I cared to check was my elective, as everything else seemed like it would be pretty standard. I hoped I’d be put into some sort of art class, but unfortunately for me the best they could manage on short notice was ceramics. Wonderful. Instead of improving my painting skill I’d just be making stupid little clay pots for the rest of the year.

Eventually, another kid walked into the main office. He was short, maybe only about 5’4, and was incredibly skinny. Everything about him was small, except maybe his hair, which was a rat’s nest of curly red. He seemed a little bit flustered, like the kid had never been called to the office before.

“Hi, I’m Charlie? I was called down here?” His voice was shaky.

The woman at the desk without looking up just pointed at me. “This is Luke.”

“Leo.”

“He’s a new student. You’re his PAL. You two have homeroom together."

Charlie changed his attitude immediately. He took my hand a little too enthusiastically for my taste, and introduced himself even though I already new his name and he already knew mine.

“Come on,” he said. “I’ll show you where our first class is.” 

I followed him out the door and into the hallway. 

“The history wing is where all the sophomore lockers are, if you want to find yours. I never use mine though, so-”

“What exactly is a ‘pal?’” I interrupted.

“Oh, it’s an acronym. I forget what it actually stands for, but basically it’s a club where students welcome new students and try to get them adjusted to this school.”

“So what, you’re some sort of welcome committee for this hell hole?”

He laughed nervously. “Something like that.”

After I interrupted him he seemed to talk way less, which was a welcome change. He led me through another hallway and up two flights of stairs before we got to our first class, which also happened to be homeroom. It was chemistry with a teacher named Mr. Davis. Charlie and I were the first students in the room, and according to the clock class didn’t actually start for another ten minutes. 

The teacher was already in the room, grading some tests I was too late to take. He was kind of a younger teacher, maybe in his early thirties, with short brown hair and glasses. 

I definitely wanted to avoid the whole accidentally sitting in someone else’s chair thing, because that would involve talking to someone when I could have just avoided it. So I decided to walk up to the teacher. “Hi, I’m a new student,” I said. “Where should I sit?”

He looked up. “Leo Carter?”

I nodded.

“There aren’t assigned seats, and all the kids basically change where they sit every day anyway. You can sit wherever you want.”

“Okay, thank you,” I said, turning to pick a seat.

“Oh, and here are all the notes you’ve missed,” he said handing me a giant packet. “If you could read those over by Wednesday that’d be great.”

_ Notes I’ve missed, _ I thought.  _ He acts like I just decided to not go to school for three months. _ Either way, I grabbed the packet and decided on a desk. Charlie was sitting in the front corner, so I decided to sit in the back, about as far away from him as I could. He was way too high energy for me, and I figured I’d be able to find my classes on my own. This was a school, not a corn maze.

Charlie apparently didn’t get the memo. He grabbed his bag and moved to sit right next to me.

“So,” he started. “Why are you coming to Hamilton?”

I sighed. “I moved in with my dad.”

“Oh, cool…” He opened up his backpack and grabbed a notebook. It was slightly bent in some areas, but was still holding together. “Where are you from?”

“Why do you care?”

“I dunno, I just…” he seemed slightly hurt by that, and it almost made me feel bad for snapping at him. Almost. “Sorry, you don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to.”

_ Finally _ . I got out my headphones and listened to some heavy metal until class started. It wasn’t even first period and I already hated this school more than anything.

As time went by, more and more students entered the room and claimed a random desk for the day. None of them seemed to pay any attention to me, I guess they didn’t notice the very obvious new kid. Apparently none of these kids were very observant. I didn’t mind, though. Best case scenario: Graduate while talking to as few people as possible.

Soon enough, all the desks were filled and the bell rang. 

“All right,” Mr. Davis started, making everyone quiet down. “It’s lab day. Everyone get with your partners.”

Everyone stood up and made their way from the desks to the lab tables in the back. Each student seemed to have their lab partners predetermined, so I was on my own. 

Mr. Davis started handing out the labs to each pair. “Remember, cool down the glass slowly or it’ll shatter. And it’s a pain in the ass to get broken glass out of the sink.” 

He finally seemed to realize that I was the only one alone. He looked around the room, and then said, “Charlie, Grace, and Abby. You guys are a group of three, right?”

A girl with dark curly hair responded, “Yeah, there’s an odd number.”

“Not anymore,” he said. “Charlie, you’re with Leo over here,” he said handing me the lab.

“Wait, can I just do the lab myself?” I _really_ did not want to get stuck with this kid.  
“Nope. Lab partners are necessary and permanent for the year. Play nice, you two.”

And with that, there were two people I hated. One was my teacher, and apparently one was my lab partner.

The lab itself was really boring. It involved heating up water with various amounts of salt to see how long it would take to boil. Unfortunately for me, it involved a lot of waiting, which also meant it involved a lot of Charlie talking my ear off. Eventually, it ended and I was very much ready to get out of there.

A few uneventful classes later, (including ceramics with Mrs. Sanders, the woman who was holding the door in the morning,) and I was off to lunch. The school cafeteria was loud and overwhelming, full of freshman who hadn’t heard of deodorant, seniors who had forgotten how to be decent human beings, and every asshole in between. I got my meal of microwaved slop, and planned to find the quietest table to just sit in peace and try not to get nauseous. But of course–

“Leo!” 

I turned around to see Charlie, which made sense since I’m pretty sure he was the only student who actually knew my name. He was smiling, as if we were already best friends. “There’s room at my table, if you want to sit with me.”

That was literally the opposite of what I wanted. Charlie was loud, talkative, and really not what I needed. “Don’t you have anyone else you’d rather talk to?”

“Not really,” he responded, grabbing my arm and pulling me to my apparent destination.

He sat down at the end of a table, and out of obligation I sat across from him. How could anyone possibly be that happy?

“How were your other classes? Did you find everything okay?”

“Fine.”

“What do you think of your teachers?”

“They’re fine.”

“Who do you have?”

I passed him my schedule without saying anything.

“Oh, you have Mrs. Sanders? She’s the best. You know she has a son who’s a teacher too, but he works at the middle school. They actually have very similar teaching styles.”

He just continued talking, and I continued to ignore him. Call me rude or whatever, but I just could not be bothered to listen to what this annoying kid had to say. No matter how little I engaged in conversation, it didn’t seem to bother him one bit. He just kept talking.

This was the kid I was stuck with for the rest of the year: My obligatory PAL.


	2. Chapter 2

So my first day wasn’t great, although I guess it could have gone worse. My dad was working, so I took the bus home. Actually, I’m not even sure if I could really call it home. It was where I lived, but it didn’t really feel like a home to me. Hell, it wasn’t even a house. It was just a two bedroom apartment that my dad moved into when he heard he’d have to actually start taking care of me. It wasn’t a huge move for him, he just had to go from a one bedroom to a two bedroom in the same building. For me though, it was a bit more of an adjustment, moving across the country.

I threw my backpack down at the door, dreading all the makeup work that was due. All I really wanted was to go back home with my mom, but I knew that wasn’t possible. It wasn’t even possible to call her anymore. I had to get used to the fact that I was truly and honestly alone, and there was nothing I could do to change that. I thought about calling Claire, telling her about my day, asking about hers, hoping she could make me laugh, but I didn’t. I broke up with her for a reason; long distance would never work, and the best thing to do for the both of us was to just forget about the other’s existence.

I pulled up her contact in my phone, and deleted it.

A few minutes later, my dad called me. A part of me wanted to ignore it, but knowing him he’d probably just call again and again until I answered. The man was stubborn, probably the only trait I actually got from him. I took a deep breath and answered the phone.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Hey! I just wanted to check in and ask how your first day went.”

“And you couldn’t wait until dinner tonight?”

Dad was quiet on the other end. “Actually, I’m a little caught up at work,” he said finally. “I don’t think I’m gonna be home for dinner. But there’s leftovers in the fridge, or you could order a pizza, whatever you want.”

I figured this would come eventually, but even I was optimistic enough to think it’d take more than one weekday for my dad to ditch me. “Okay, that’s fine.”

“But how was your day? Did you make any friends?”

“Something like that.” If a PAL counted as a friend.

“That’s great, kiddo!”

I may have gagged at that comment. It’s like he learned how to be a dad by watching outdated sitcoms. Actually, I wouldn’t put it past him.

“Okay, I gotta run. I have a big meeting coming up. But it’s great to hear that everything is going okay.”

“Alright.”

“Bye, son. I lo-”

I hung up before he could finish. I knew it wasn’t actually true. If he really loved me he wouldn’t wait until now to try to be a parent. He only agreed to look after me because that’s what it said in the divorce papers: If something happened to Mom, he’d get custody. Well, something did happen to Mom. Now he had custody. That’s all there was to it.

I ended up ordering the pizza. Dad left some money in the kitchen, which meant he definitely knew he would have to stay late before he dropped me off, and intentionally waited until now to break the news. Later that night I got a call from a number I didn’t have saved. The area code was from home. I blocked the number and went to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

A few days went by, and I started to adjust to things. The hallways seemed shorter, the classrooms more distinguishable, and everything overall felt less foreign. Granted, I still hated everything, but at least now I knew what to expect. My workload was starting to diminish the longer time went on, although I still had a lot to catch up on. 

I was always early for first period, as my dad dropped me off before the buses to avoid traffic for him to get to work, but I didn’t mind. What I did mind was that Charlie seemed to always be the only other person early for class, and he always made it a point to try to talk to me. But even he seemed to be less annoying, the way you just kind of get used to a bad smell that lingers long enough.

Before I knew it, a week had gone by, and once again it was lab day.

Mr. Davis handed out a new lab, something involving mixing together different chemicals at different heats and timing how long it would take them to change color. Pretty basic stuff, nothing too mindblowing. But it did involve a lot of time, so Charlie and I didn’t get to the analysis or post lab questions.

Five minutes before the bell rang, he handed me his phone. “Here, put in your number. We can work on it after school.”

Reluctantly, I nodded, and entered my contact. He sent me a text right away so I had his number, too.

“Do you think we could finish it at your house?” he asked.

“Why does it have to be mine?”

Charlie started to look uncomfortable. “Well, um… my parents… don’t usually like meeting new people, and-”

“Okay fine, I’ll text you my address.” I texted him my apartment building and number, and regretted it as soon as I hit send.

He smiled at me. “Cool, I actually live pretty close to you. Want to meet up around four? I have band before then.”

I sighed. “Yeah, whatever.”

And that’s how my least favorite person in this shitty town ended up in my apartment.

We more or less worked in silence– I guess it was awkward enough to even get Charlie to shut up. The only things we really said to each other were simple one word answers to the question, “Did you get this?” 

Soon enough we were done with it, and I wondered why we couldn’t have just done this during lunch.

Even though we were done, Charlie just continued to sit there, like he was still concentrating on something. All I wanted was for him to leave, but before I could ask him to go he broke the silence.

“Why don’t you like me?” he asked, looking at the floor.

“What?”

“I’ve been trying to help you, trying to be your friend, but…” his voice trailed off some . “I don’t know, no one really likes me. I guess I thought maybe you’d be different.”

I was confused. Didn’t most people  _ like _ the overly positive always smiling kind of person? I guess even normal people find that kind of thing annoying. But still, it didn’t quite seem fair. He was annoying, but that’s all he was. He didn’t deserve to be ostracised for it.

In a second he returned to his cheerful facade. “Heh, sorry about that, I really don’t know when to shut up, do I?”

“Charlie, I-”

He laughed a little, brushing me off. “It’s fine, you don’t have to like me.” He stood up and made his way to the door. “Thanks for your help on this, I’m gonna head home.”

A part of me wanted to stop him, to thank him for his effort and to apologize for being an asshole, but another part of me thought that’d be disingenuous. After all, I’m not obligated to be his friend, and somehow pretending to like him seemed worse than just ignoring him. At least it was honest.

So I let him leave, and watched him walk home from my bedroom window. It was strange though, somehow I hadn’t noticed that as much as Charlie seemed to talk, he never talked to anyone besides me. I didn’t notice how eager he was to make a new friend, even though he knew nothing about me. I didn’t notice that as much as he invited me to eat lunch with him, no one ever seemed to acknowledge him. And the more I noticed these things, the more I felt like the biggest asshole on the planet.

It seemed to be about a fifty fifty chance whether or not my dad was home before eight, or right as I was going to bed, and that night was one of the former.. He made a generic dinner of chicken, rice, and frozen corn, and pretended to be interested in my life by making meaningless small talk.

“So how was school?”

“Annoying. The lab went late so we had to finish it outside of school.”

“‘We?’”

“Yeah, my lab partner. You know, that kid I told you about? The annoying one? He came over and we finished it here. Those stupid post lab questions go on forever.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “So you’re telling me you already had a friend over? That’s great!”

“‘Friend’ is a strong word, Dad. We just got stuck with each other.”

He loaded up two plates with the food that was only slightly better than the gross school lunches. “Well, how was it?”

I sighed. “It was fine.”

“Doesn’t sound like it went fine. What happened?”

I didn’t answer.

“Leo-”

“He made me feel like an asshole.”

He looked at me. “What makes you say that?”  
“He asked me why I don’t like him.” I took a bite of some chicken. “I mean, who asks that?”

“Well, what did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything. He just said to forget about it and then he walked home.” I took a big gulp of water. “I guess I feel a little bad, he doesn’t really have any other friends and I’ve been treating him like trash all week.”

“You should apologize if you feel that bad,” he said between bites. “You should also eat your vegetables.”

“Stop pretending to parent me. Corn is a grain, not a vegetable.”

“Fair enough, but you should still apologize to this kid– um, what was his name... Chuck.”

“Charlie, Dad. His name is Charlie. God, sometimes you’re even more annoying than he is.”

Before he could try to lecture me again, I put my plate in the sink and locked myself in my room. I stared at my phone for a bit. Maybe I should text him.

I drafted a text. “Hey. Sorry for being an asshole. Thanks for all your help.” My thumb hovered over the send button for a second, wondering if it would be worth it. 

I thought about just how hard he was trying, and about how much I brushed him off. I thought about the fact that as annoying as I found him, he never actually did anything wrong. And I thought about that face he made, when he asked why I didn’t like him, and even though he put a smile on right after that I knew it wasn’t how he really felt. And eventually, I decided this small amount of effort might actually be worth it.

I plugged my phone into the charger, and I felt a little better.


	4. Chapter 4

I half dreaded going to school the next day. 

It was going to be awkward, I could just feel it, whether he accepted my apology or didn’t. If I was honest, I wasn’t sure which would be worse.

I was early for class, as always, and Charlie came through the door not long after me, as always. He took the seat next to mine, but today he seemed a little less talkative, and maybe a bit more genuine.

“Thanks for what you said yesterday,” he said, dropping his bag on the floor. “It really means a lot.”

I was tempted to roll my eyes at the cheesy comment, but instead took a breath and said, “No problem.”

He sighed. “You know, sometimes I talk too much, and I tend to overshare.”

_ Yeah, I noticed. _

“Do you think we could just start over?”

I nodded, and was determined to mean it.

At lunch that day I actually listened to what he was saying, and honestly it wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be.

“Unpopular opinion,” he started, “Skyward Sword is the best Zelda game.”

“What? No way.”

“I’m serious!” he said after taking a sip of water. “It’s one of the most underrated game of all time! The art style is beautiful, the music is moving, the story is engaging-”

“Yeah, but the characters kinda suck. All the side characters are completely forgettable, and half the main characters are just annoying. Plus the controls are little more than frustrating. Majora’s Mask on the other hand, has such cool themes and such a dark atmosphere, with incredible world building and such memorable side quests.”

He thought for a moment. “Yeah, I guess, but I’m not a fan of the three day mechanic. I just want to be able to do backflips for hours, I don’t want to have to worry about any time limits.”

“So I’m guessing you’re not a fan of Pikman?”

“Oh  _ god  _ no, I still get flashbacks.”

We continued like this for the entire lunch break, barely pausing to eat our food. It was surprising how bearable, and even likable he was when I actually responded to his non stop rambling. Day after day, we talked more, and even started texting each other after school. Despite my best efforts, I actually did make a friend, and surprisingly I didn’t regret it. Even if he did have a completely wrong opinion about Zelda games. 

It didn’t take long before we started texting each other fairly regularly outside of school. Neither of us really had any friends besides each other, so aside from Charlie’s band practice we were never all that busy.

We’d talk about video games and music, comics and movies, basically anything. Despite our similar interests we rarely had a similar opinion about anything. I liked metal, he liked indie, I liked DC and he liked Marvel, which just led us into hours of friendly debate, both understanding and disagreeing with each other, but enjoying it all the while.

One Saturday afternoon, I sent him a text, “Hey, wanna come over?” It was so simple, and yet I couldn’t remember the last time I asked a friend to come over to my house. I was never the social type, aside from Claire, but I actually liked spending time with him. So I decided maybe it was time to get out of my comfort zone.

He responded quickly, “Sure, on my way.” He was always good with answering quickly.

A few minutes later there was a knock on my door, and sure enough, there he was, and so started the tradition of hanging out in my apartment.

It was a little bit strange, the fact that as much as we were in my apartment we never went to his house, even though it was probably bigger and we wouldn’t have to worry about complaining neighbors. But every time I suggested we go to his place, he’d always give some vague excuse about his parents. I could tell that as much as that kid loves to talk, this was one thing he did not want to tell me about. Still, it was always something about him being worried his parents wouldn’t like me, and nothing about them treating him badly, so I was always willing to brush it off. Besides, my apartment was fine.

One day, in the middle of playing Mario Kart, he said “You know, you never actually told me where you’re from.”

“I didn’t?”

“No. I asked you when we first met and you kinda dodged the question.”

Oh yeah, back when I was an asshole. “I’m from California.”

He turned to me. “That’s so cool!” he said. “I’ve never been to the west coast.”

“Eyes on the road, dumbass,” I said as he drove off the course. Rainbow road was not the best for making conversation.

“What about you?” I asked. “Did you ever move?”

“Me? No, I’ve always lived in New Jersey. I’ve always wanted to move out of here.”

We crossed the finish line, me in first and Charlie in fourth from falling off the map too many times.

“There’s not enough snow here. I want to move somewhere up north, like Vermont or New York.”

“I think it’s freezing here,” I said, choosing the next course.

“It’s only November, you know. It’s going to get a lot colder,” Charlie laughed. “So anyway, why’d you move?”

I froze, trying to word my answer very carefully. “I used to live with my mom, but I had to move in with my dad.”

“Why, what happened?”

I didn’t answer.

Charlie looked out the window. “It’s getting kind of late, I should go home,” he said standing up. “It’s my mom’s birthday, I’m supposed to help my dad cook.”

“Oh, okay. Have fun.”

He put on his coat and walked towards the door. “Thanks, but I won’t,” he said walking out.

I looked at my phone. It was almost seven, and I had a very familiar text from my own dad. 

I ordered another pizza.


End file.
